A small spot for me to publish random thoughts that might help other writers find that tiny voice echoing feebly inside their heads.

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

I Love Dialogue from Love, Death and Pizza 2

Adrianna
Hasselhoff, the beauty queen assistant district attorney, goes over
to Brock's house for an informal interview the night after Tack's
death. She asks him if he can think of anyone else who would make a
better suspect for the police. Although he'd already been playing
with that idea, Brock decides he doesn't like the idea of making his
suspicions official.

Much
as I was attracted to Adrianna Hasselhoff, I wasn't in the mood for
her questions anymore.

"I'm
not prepared to be the town snitch," I said quietly.

She
could tell from my tone that I was angry. Sadness filled her eyes and
she shut off her recorder. Sighing heavily, she sat back on her
stool, taking the clips out of her hair. She shook her head a little,
letting the hair fall where it wanted. She looked even prettier with
it down, kind of vulnerable and a lot younger than I first thought.

Closing
my eyes against the tempting sight, I inhaled deeply. Which was
really a mistake, because her perfume wrapped around me like a cloud.
I was hooked and she probably knew it. I hoped she wasn't planning to
use her beauty against me. That would be damn low.

"Look,"
she said softly. "Brock, I came here because my boss thinks that
a pretty solid case could be built against you and Amy Carmichael as
co-conspirators. You say she's not capable of doing this, that you
don't want to be the town snitch. But the fact is, Brock, that
everyone is pretty willing to turn and point fingers at you. Amy told
us about your affair. She said you had reasons to kill Tack that no
one else knew about. Amy mentioned your name in connection with
Tack's death no less than four times in ten minutes." She sighed
again, looking down at the counter all sorrowful.

"By
your own admission, you think that everyone is better off without
Tack Carmichael. The killer did a public service. You couldn't have
killed him yourself, you have a restaurant full of witnesses. But
that doesn't mean you couldn't have hired someone to do it for you."

"Jesus
Christ!" I yelled, totally pissed off now. "Why the hell
would I bother?"

"For
Amy Carmichael."

"For
Amy? Sure, she's a great lay, but I don't love the woman. I don't
even particularly like
her. She's a selfish, self-centered bimbo. Ms. Hasselhoff, I think
you need to leave now."

"I'm
sorry if I've upset you, Mr. Parnell."

"You're
too nice a lady for me to say to you what I am thinking of saying.
Let me calm down, get some more sleep."

"May
I call you later?"

"Depends
on what you want to say to me." I smiled a little, giving a
sardonic laugh. "If you want to call and talk dirty, that's
cool. If you want to talk about Tack Carmichael, then I don't know."

She
smiled, her blue eyes going all soft and gooey. I wanted to dive into
those eyes. They were like twin lakes and I wanted to drown in them.
I wanted to wrap myself in her hair and stay tangled in it forever.

She
winked and walked toward the door, giving me a good view of her ass.
She put a little twitch into her walk that wasn't there last night
and I nearly slipped in the puddle of drool that gathered at my feet.
She stopped with her hand on the doorknob.

"Get
some sleep, Brock. You look like you could use it."

"I
bet you could too," I smiled sympathetically. "You probably
didn't sleep any more than I did."

"Not
been to bed yet." She sighed. That did nice things to her chest.

"We
could share," I suggested playfully.

She
knew I was only half kidding. "Get some sleep, Brock. I'll call
you later."

Her
smile lit bonfires in me. I felt like a damn teenager again!

"You
do that."

I
stayed behind the counter because there was quite a happy dance going
on in my pants that I didn't really want her to see. I pretended to
be occupied with my coffee cake, acting all casual.

She
flashed a five star smile, tossed her hair over her shoulder and
opened the door. One last time, she glanced at me Lauren Bacall style
before going out. My heart did flip-flops as the door closed behind
her.

"That's
it," I said to myself. "I've died and gone to hell. God is
punishing me for being a bad boy."